Freedom is something yearned after in America.
It always has been and it always will.
So how can people feel trapped in a place that is free?
I've decided that no one is ever free.
We're all captives of something.
Love, Hate, Jobs, Life in general.
It doesn't matter, we're just like the neighbors dog, locked in the basement. Howling in displeasure. We hate that feeling of being trapped and yet it's for our own good, or is it?
Safe from cars, other dogs, and drunk bastards. Trapped in a locked basement waiting for the abusive owners to return.
He barks, it's loud and angry and sad. He scratches at the door. I'll lean over and yell at him when he tries to chew on the door. To keep him safe. Telling him to accept his cage while I write in self-pity about mine.
At least he has the guts to make his displeasure known why I find ways to make myself happy.
At least I don't keep him awake.
No comments:
Post a Comment